ll or plain, to whom the quivering tree
Hinteth a thought which, holy, solemn, deep,
Sinks in the heart, bidding their spirits flee
All thoughts of vice, that dread and hateful thing
Which troubleth of each joy the pure and gushing spring?'"

CHAPTER IX.

_ALL A-BLOW: THE APPLE TREE_.

It certainly was a beautiful sight, and the children exclaimed over it
in ectasy. It was now past the middle of April, and Miss Harson had
taken her little flock to visit an apple-orchard at some distance from
Elmridge, and the whole place seemed to be one mass of pink-and-white
bloom.

"And how deliciously _sweet_ it is!" said Malcolm as he sniffed the
fragrant air.

"Oh!" exclaimed Edith, turning up her funny little nose to get the full
benefit of all this fragrance; "I can't breathe half enough at once."

"That is just my case," said her governess, laughing, "but I did not
think to say it in that way. Get all you can of this deliciousness,
children; I wish that we could carry some of it away with us."

"And so you shall," replied a hearty voice as Mr. Grove, the owner of
the orchard, came up with a knife in his hand and began cutting off
small branches of apple--blossoms. "I like to see folks enjoy things."

"I hope you don't mind our trespassing on your grounds?" said Miss
Harson. "I can engage that my little friends will do no injury, and I
particularly wished them to see your beautiful orchard in bloom; it is
almost equal to a field of roses."

"Don't mind it at all, miss," was the reply--"quite the contrary; and I
think, myself, it's a pretty sight. Smells good, too. Now, here's a
nosegay big enough for you three young ladies, and Bub there can
carry it."

Malcolm, who was quite proud of his name, felt so indignant at being
called "Bub" that he almost forgot the farmer's generosity; but his
governess acknowledged it, very much to the worthy man's satisfaction.

Edith, however, was rather shocked.

"I thought it was wicked," said she, "to cut off flowers from fruit
trees? Won't these make apples?"

"Not them particular ones, Sis," replied Mr. Grove, with a laugh;
"they're done for now. But it ain't wicked to cut off your own apple
blows when there's too many on the tree to make good apples, and there's
plenty to spare yet." He was very much amused at the little girl's
serious face over this wholesale destruction of infant apples, and he
invited them all to come to the house and get a drink